Second Chance Spring Read online

  “How are you, Mom?”

  She crossed her arms and swayed a bit, turning back and forth like a little girl. “Good, Cormac’s been keeping me company lately. Such a nice man.”

  “He is,” I confirmed. I wanted to say something else, but didn’t know quite what, so instead, I asked for a pumpkin muffin. “And tea,” I finished.

  “Actually,” Mom said, a little sparkle coming into her eye. “Come back here. I need your help with something.” She bustled toward the swinging door separating the kitchen from the shop.

  “You want me in the kitchen?” I asked, coming around the counter. I hadn’t been planning on helping out with baking, but I guessed I could. I helped sometimes when things got busy or if Mom was baking for a special occasion. I glanced longingly at the pumpkin muffins, all orange and plump behind the glass, and then followed my mother.

  “Yes, and oh, you know, I’m going to need another opinion too.” She pushed past me again, leaving me standing in the kitchen before a long metal table full of little plates with cookies and muffins cut into fourths all lined up. She’d clearly been planning this, and I wondered if she’d sprung into action, formulating her plan the second I’d texted her that I might stop by.

  A moment later, she was dragging a confused-looking Cormac through the swinging door and pushing him to stand at my side. She went around the other side of the table and grinned at us both. “I need you to taste test a few things,” she said, and she wrung her hands dramatically. “I just can’t decide which of these I should offer as my Cherry Blossom special.”

  Cormac laughed, a hint of discomfort in his voice. “What’s the Cherry Blossom special?”

  I turned to face him, swallowing hard before I was able to speak as the full force of his presence hit me. “Mom makes a big deal out of the annual Cherry Blossom festival. She bakes like ninety cakes for the cakewalk, and she always makes a special cookie or muffin for the week of the festival.”

  “So these are all cherry-themed?” Cormac asked, pointing at the assorted baked goods.

  Mom clapped her hands. “Exactly!” But then she frowned. “But they’re not all cherry flavored,” she clarified. “Like this one is chocolate hazelnut because I have it on good authority that George Washington enjoyed a nice bit of Nutella now and then. You know he cut down a cherry tree.”

  “Um,” Cormac said, and it seemed he might be about to question my mother’s ‘good authority’ about that Nutella thing.

  “Best not to ask,” I suggested, leaning close to him with a stage whisper.

  Mom shot me a narrow-eyed gaze, but then went on. “So the Washington cookie is here. This one is a cherry-vanilla blondie. This one here is the cherry crumb muffin, and that one is a Kahlua cookie.”

  “Kahlua, Mom? What’s the cherry relationship there?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I had a bit of Kahlua back here for inspiration. I spilled a cup into the first batch, but they were so good, I went with it.”

  “You drink Kahlua while you’re working?” Cormac asked, grinning.

  “It’s my bakery,” Mom said. “I do what I want.”

  Cormac burst out laughing at that. “As you should,” he told her.

  “Okay, I’m leaving you to it. Come out and tell me which one wins when you’re done.”

  And then Cormac and I were alone, faced with a long table of baked goods and my mother’s obvious and embarrassing attempts at matchmaking.

  “If you need to get going, you totally don’t have to do this. She’s a little bit … manipulative.”

  He laughed again, the sound rolling through me like warm sand churning under gentle waves. “I like baked goods, actually. And I like your mom.”

  “She means well,” I agreed, looking up at him to find those gold eyes on me. I cleared my throat as heat rose to my cheeks. “She’s just always trying so hard …”

  “To …?”

  I couldn’t hold his eyes, so I picked up a piece of Washington cookie instead. I popped a piece in my mouth and then said, “to set me up.” I hoped the muffled words would be enough of an answer for Cormac to drop it and that he might have the grace to pretend he’d understood me. What I’d said had sounded a lot more like, “oo fett be aaa.”

  He picked up a piece of muffin and shoved it between his lips and then mimicked me, saying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that last part.” But his words were closer to, “I arrrey, I ninny ett aa ass mar.”

  I burst out laughing, bringing my hand to my mouth to keep from spitting cookie, and was relieved when Cormac’s shoulders shook to match mine, both of us laughing over a childish joke. But it took off the edge.

  “She’s always trying to set me up,” I said, my mouth clear now.

  He looked down at the table and then glanced at me sideways, that little smile lifting one side of his mouth again and sending my heart racing. “Your mom is trying to set you up with me?”

  Oh man, this was embarrassing. “Yeah. But you can just ignore it. She does this all the time.” I popped a piece of cherry crumb muffin in my mouth and chewed, leaning against the table. “She’s worried I’ll die old and alone, since my marriage failed.” He might as well know I was a withering divorcee, if he didn’t already.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, looking back up at me. “I didn’t realize you’d been married.”

  “My husband also pretty much had no idea he was married,” I told him, having long since moved past the hurt that came with Adam’s unfaithfulness.

  “Oh no,” Cormac said, trying not to laugh.

  “Yeah, it didn’t go all that well. I’m better off.” I shrugged.

  For a minute, we just tasted cookies and muffins, comparing our opinions of each. And then, Cormac turned to face me again.

  “Well, for the record,” he said, not quite meeting my eye. “If I were in a position to be set up, this would definitely have worked.”

  It felt like the breath was sucked out of my lungs. What had I expected? That my mother’s ridiculous scheming would actually work? Of course, he had a girlfriend or something. “You’re not, though,” I said. It was only kind of a question. “In a position like that,” I clarified.

  “I wish I were,” he said, and I almost believed him, based on the wistful tone of his voice.

  I looked at my neighbor then, allowing my appreciation for his charm, his rugged good looks, and his clear affinity for family to color my voice. “I kind of wish you were too,” I said.

  We both laughed a little uncomfortably then, and without saying anything, went back out to where my mother was waiting.

  “Washington cookies,” I said.

  “Definitely,” Cormac agreed.

  “Oh, it’s unanimous! You have the same taste in cookies, clearly,” Mom said, giving me an eyebrow waggle. “Maybe in other things too,” she whispered.

  “Drop it, Mom. It’s not happening,” I hissed back as Cormac went out to gather his belongings.

  Bobo stood up as I came back around the counter. “Ready to go, buddy?”

  Cormac turned to my mother, thanking her, and then pulled open the door of the cafe for me. “Can I give you a ride home?” he asked.

  Despite the little jump in my belly, I shook my head. “I don’t think you want Bobo in your car.”

  He frowned down at Bobo’s happy face. “Oh, right. Maybe not,” he agreed, and then he turned away and sneezed.

  “Bye Mom!” I called, heading out onto the sidewalk to begin the walk home. Alone. As always.

  Hop in my boat

  Cormac

  It felt a little strange getting into my car and watching Paige—and a dog I would literally have thought was a physical impossibility had I not seen it with my own eyes—walk off down the sidewalk. The world outside felt different than it had when I’d first gone into the cafe. Dark clouds were gathering overhead, suffusing the night with a kind of foreboding that was only amplified by the roll of distant thunder.

  I pulled away from the curb, glancing up as
the heavy clouds were lit from within by lightning, setting the street ahead of me in an eerie flash of light and illuminating Paige just ahead, breaking into a trot.

  It was too dark to properly appreciate the way she might have looked, bouncing along the sidewalk, her ponytail swinging, so instead of watching, I slowed alongside her and rolled down the passenger window.

  “Let me give you a ride, Paige. Please?” Lightning flashed overhead again, and Paige stopped running and turned to face the car.

  “It’ll be fine,” she called. “Just cloud to cloud right now.” She grinned and turned to continue her trot, but at that moment the thunder cracked instead of rolled, and a second later, it was as if someone had drawn a blade through the belly of a water balloon overhead. Rain began pouring down.

  Paige turned back to the car and sprinted the few feet toward me, pulling her dog along behind her. “On second thought …” she said, her voice practically a shout.

  I raised the window as she leapt into the car and the dog bounded in after her, landing on her lap with a soaked sploosh.

  “Thanks!” she said, her voice full of laughter. “I hadn’t really planned for that to happen!”

  “You’re soaked,” I said, feeling a wide smile taking over my face. Her hair was dripping and little tendrils were matted to her forehead with water. Bobo was also soaked, but he sat on her lap and grinned happily at me.

  “Sorry, I’m probably ruining your car,” Paige said, as I guided us slowly home through the downpour.

  “I have two tiny children. You cannot possibly do more harm than they manage in a single outing.”

  She laughed again, that throaty unguarded sound that made me want to pounce on her and see what other sounds she might make. I reined in my galloping emotions and focused on the very hard to see road ahead. “They look so innocent,” she said, referring to my girls.

  “They’re not,” I assured her. “They’re tiny little demons of destruction, and their tools are juice boxes and goldfish crackers. If you’re hungry at all, there’s probably enough for a snack in the back there.”

  I pointed to the back seat and Paige glanced behind her. “I might see a few.” She turned to me, and I could feel her gaze on the side of my face as I tried to concentrate on the drive. “They are adorable, though. Your girls. I don’t really know them, of course, but I’ve seen them playing outside, and met them at the shelter that one time. I mean, it’s not like …” she pushed her hand over her forehead, smoothing the little hairs back, and I had the sense she was potentially trying to quell the stream of words suddenly coming from her mouth. “I mean, it’s not like I’m watching you.” The laugh came again, more awkward this time. “Oh god,” she finished.

  It was my turn to laugh, and I glanced at her as I turned into our neighborhood. “Are you nervous, Paige?” I wasn’t sure exactly why, but the idea that she might be nervous around me was appealing. Did I have that effect on anyone anymore? It had been so long since I’d dated or even really talked to a woman who wasn’t my wife, I couldn’t remember if making someone nervous was a good thing. My suspicion was that it was.

  She blew out a breath and when she spoke, her voice was a little lower, a little calmer. “Yeah,” she said. “I don’t know what’s going on. I mean, I totally know there’s nothing here.” She motioned between us. “And you were pretty clear in the kitchen back there that you’re not … um … looking for anything …”

  Oh, this was good. This was the most intrigued and entertained I had felt in months. Years, actually. Paige Tanner was in my car, blushing and stammering and gorgeous, and as the rain fell down dark and heavy around us, it felt for a second like nothing else in the world mattered—not my girls or my wife, or that hair bag of a dog—only this delicious tension in the car right now.

  It might have been just a touch better were there not some kind of half-clown, half-dog sitting on Paige’s lap grinning at me, but still.

  Paige was still babbling, something about George Washington and hazelnut, and the smile on my face felt like a brand new shirt I’d just put on—perfectly soft and comfortable and bound to become an instant favorite.

  “Hey,” I said, pulling to a stop. “Sorry to interrupt, and I definitely want to talk a little bit about all of … that. But it’s still pouring out. I can just pull right into my garage, and you can come in until the rain stops if you want.” I let the words out before I could consider that I hadn’t had a woman in my house since Linda died. At least not one who wasn’t paid to be there to clean or babysit.

  Paige froze, her eyes wide and her mouth still open, and looked around. “Oh, yeah. Okay, sure.”

  A few minutes later, we were in the laundry room that connected the garage to the house, and I was helping Paige dry her dog off so they could both come in.

  “Luke won’t mind, you don’t think?”

  “He’s with the girls over at Callan and April’s house,” I told her. I’d convinced my brother to take Luke for the night too, hoping I might get a break from sneezing. Of course now there was Bobo, but if it was the price I paid to get a little more time with Paige, I realized that was fine with me.

  I sneezed.

  “Thanks for this,” Paige said, as we moved into the kitchen and Bobo set off to explore. “I feel bad bringing yet another dog into your house. Especially on your night off. But we’ll head out pretty quick. I’m sure it’ll stop raining soon.” She wandered a little bit, looking at some of the pictures on the shelf by the back door with interest. Then she dropped her hands and turned to face me. “Hey, all that stuff I said in the car … I’m really sorry, I got nervous, and sometimes my mouth runs away with me. I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable. I mean, you were totally clear back there, and I just … I mean … I’m not expecting anything.”

  I had been at the fridge, about to offer her a drink, but something about the way she stood there, head dropped a bit forward as if defeated by her own words, had me crossing the space between us. I stopped in front of her. “Paige,” I said, and my own voice was lower than I remembered it.

  She looked up, meeting my eyes with her blue gray gaze and sending my heart galloping around in my chest. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this. I’d actually thought these feelings were gone. Dead. Buried with my wife.

  “It’s okay,” I said, but when her face fell a little, some of the hope leaving those beautiful soft eyes, I knew it wasn’t the right thing to say at all. Damn, I was out of practice at … whatever this was. I took a step closer, and watched as Paige took a sharp breath. “Maybe I spoke a little too soon back there.”

  “About the cookies?” she said, her voice high and thin.

  “What?” I laughed. “No. Not about the cookies. About this.” And this suddenly became an intense desire I couldn’t ignore, a need to get as close as I could to the woman in front of me, to feel her soft lips pressed to mine, to maybe wrap her in my arms and see what those long limbs might feel like pressed against mine. The tension was unbearable, so I did the only thing I could. I kissed Paige Tanner.

  It was soft and tentative at first, just my lips pressed to hers, asking a silent question. But her hands found my chest, her palms sliding up, warming a trail as they went, until one of those delicate doctor’s hands slid around my neck and her lips parted to mine.

  And then it was something else, something that had a trail of fire lighting through my veins, something that sent my mind spinning off into a dark carefree void, and made my muscles begin to coil and tense.

  It was tender and passionate, careful and demanding.

  Kissing Paige was so many things I couldn’t keep track of them all, but I had a growing sense it was something I wanted to do again and again. I had the idea that everything about Paige might be like her kiss—varied and surprising, unique and intriguing—and I wanted to know all of it.

  There was a sound in the background, one I barely registered, but as the kiss went on, I realized it was Paige’s dog, growling low in his
throat.

  “Ignore him,” she muttered, our mouths still attached, still exploring one another.

  I had no problem following that direction.

  When I finally released her, my hands sliding from where they’d attached themselves—one to her back and another to that perfectly round ass—I found myself grinning. A little laugh escaped me as our eyes met again, and I lifted a hand to rub across my lips, almost as if I thought she might have left something of herself there.

  Bobo was still growling from the corner, and I glanced at him to find him in his best imitation of a threatening dog, crouched low, still grinning, but with his teeth bared a little more than normal.

  “You kissed me,” Paige said in a whisper.

  I let out a little uncomfortable chuckle, wishing I could adjust myself without making it obvious. Things down south were a little tight all of a sudden. “Yeah …”

  “Bobo, stop it,” she said, her voice a little sharper as she turned to the dog.

  He stopped growling and dropped his head, as if in shame.

  “Oh, now you’ve hurt his feelings,” I said.

  “He’s very protective, but too scared to actually do anything about it. All bark, I guess.”

  We were still standing very close, facing one another with the electric tension crackling around us. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, so I shoved them into my pockets, but that only made my jeans tighter across the front, so I pulled them back out just as fast. “Beer?” I managed, turning on my heel and heading back to the kitchen.

  “Uh …” Paige seemed as disoriented as I felt. “Okay,” she said, and she followed me, taking a seat at the table.

  “So what you said back there, at the café,” I began, setting a beer in front of her. “About your mom, and her intentions.”

  Paige’s face was pink, and she fidgeted with the bottle in front of her. “And everything I said in the car after,” she said. “Don’t forget all that.”